


Out of Bounds

by PreseaMoon



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22954219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: Erika and Walker start bringing Masaomi around and Kadota has mixed feelings on it.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Out of Bounds

**Author's Note:**

> For the pettiest of reasons I am excessively fixated on Masaomi's dynamic with the van gang. As such, this both is and isn't a canon divergent AU.

Kyouhei isn’t sure what to make of it when Karisawa and Yumasaki first show up with Kida Masaomi in tow. In fact, he discards the moment from relevance pretty quickly, because he figures it’s a one off that doesn’t merit comment or speculation. Of course, as is often the case when it comes to those two, Kyouhei is wrong. There’s a second time, a third, fourth, fifth. Kida is present at lunches and day trips alike, and now it’s a habit he can neither predict nor make sense of.

Kida is just _there_ sometimes. Silent and sullen and what is Kyouhei meant to do with that?

On one hand he gets it. However they met—and Kyouhei is _praying_ they didn’t seek him out—Kida is a likable enough kid whose interests presumably overlap with theirs. So sure, why not take him to a few hobby shops and out of Ikebukuro every now and then. Not a big deal on its own. On the other hand, Kida? Really? Of all the people in Ikebukuro they could strike up a relationship with, it had to be the former gang leader who feels awkward around them?

They say, “He’s just a junior high student, now,” as if that isn’t a completely separate and just as significant issue.

Junior high. Kid isn’t even in high school yet and they see fit to drag him around, sometimes when he’s supposed to be in school, and that’s what, neither here nor there?

It’s not that Kyouhei disapproves, exactly. Nor is it that he cares all that much if Kida is a truant or proper delinquent or whatever else he may want to be without his color gang at his heels. It’s just that in the course of it all, the how and why has passed him by. 

The kid is always wound tight as hell, brimming with nervous energy that Karisawa and Yumasaki ignore entirely while it leaves Togusa and Kyouhei on edge. About what, neither of them really has a clue, they just are. It’s not like Kida is going to explode on them. Probably. His head is constantly bowed, avoiding their faces, and he engages like he’s on a server across the world. For all Kyouhei’s instinct to label it hesitation that’s not how it comes across. In the empty seconds when his transmission pulses through the air it begs action, pleads accountability that’s not intended for them but bleeds without end.

The thing is, people aren’t projects. And neither Karisawa nor Yumasaki have particularly nurturing characters. They don’t generally entertain the notion that they might either. So, Kyouhei isn’t sure what they think they’re doing with a kid who has the countenance of a kicked puppy. Worse than that even, because at least a puppy would start warming up to you sooner or later. Kida is as mopey as the first lunch he was dragged to.

As for Karisawa and Yumasaki…

They, too, are the same as ever.

Presently, the two of them are going on and on about the latest night novel releases, debating what needs to be purchased right away, what they can hold off on, and what the optimal reading order is. Normally during this Kyouhei would be having a conversation of his own with Togusa, or maybe just enjoy his meal once their voices dulled into white noise. Neither option feels feasible with Kida sitting beside him, keeping space between them when the room really isn’t there. He isn’t even pretending to pick at the plate of food in front of him.

The kid is a heavy sigh incarnate.

Kyouhei didn’t sign up for this, but he guesses, on some level, this is what friendship means.

“Hey, Kida,” he says, taking a bite of yakiniku casually, “you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want. I’m sure listening to these two prattle on isn’t your idea of fun.”

And there’s the silence, the catching up where Kida sits so still it’s as if he isn’t with them at all. From across the table Togusa shoots him a look. He never quite agrees with how to handle Kida, no matter what Kyouhei does, but that’s only because he doesn’t want to come to a decision at all. Like they can leave him in the limbo that is Karisawa and Yumasaki. That’s a choice, too, and it’s likely the one that will burn them most.

Kyouhei has time to swallow another piece of yakiniku before Kida finally answers. 

“It’s fine.”

Not exactly the response he was hoping for, and Togusa’s raised eyebrows say, “What did you really expect?”

Maybe conjuring up the thought Kida could nod and ask for a to go box was overly optimistic, but Kyouhei likes to think he’s realistic in his expectations of others. Whether Kida took his words as a polite way of asking him to get lost or simply giving him permission to leave, the result would be the same. Was supposed to be the same, anyway. Kida seems to have gone for an unaccounted option, where Kyouhei was apologizing for his friends ignoring him. Which he wasn’t, and probably wouldn’t do. They’re not really the kinds of people you want to get in the habit of apologizing for.

Kyouhei sighs. Under his breath, because he’s not aiming to be an asshole to the kid. Maybe it’s just because he’s still working through what happened to his girlfriend and his gang and everything, but he doesn’t really strike Kyouhei as much of a delinquent, nor much of a street kid in general. From what he’s seen, which he admits isn’t much—for all the brawls he never saw him in action personally—Kida is soft. Not just around the edges, but at the center too. Not really cut out for the position of gang leader even if it is where he found himself. Funny how that works out.

But that’s adolescence for you, doing a bunch of stupid shit until you find what fits. Shame this one had to be so… this for him.

“Sure,” Kyouhei says, “it’s fine, but is that really how you want to spend your afternoon?”

Kida slumps, the motion so slight it might as well be a heavy exhale. “How else would I spend it?”

“I don’t know. School. Maybe. Don’t know if you realize this, but it is a weekday. And far as I know not a holiday or anything.”

Kida’s head tilts so he can look at Kyouhei from the corner of his eye. Under the blank expression is suspicion, as well as confusion. And, yeah, as a lifelong delinquent himself Kyouhei doesn’t have much room to chide him for ditching, but he is sort of supposed to be the adult here, isn’t he? That’s what happens once you hit your twenties and find yourself somehow in the company of middle schoolers. 

For the sake of that he can pretend he’s an adult for a few minutes. Put on a better act of it than Karisawa, Yumasaki, or Togusa can anyway.

Kida’s silence sits, and then sinks. Despite the situation being no different from how it was moments ago, the chatter from Karisawa and Yumasaki increases in volume. Individual words round out to unasked for clarity, stringing into senseless concepts that fail to create a distraction. Kida twitches in recognition of it, but continues to give him nothing.

Kyouhei leans forward on the table, until he’s gotten Kida’s attention, and then he blinks at him, pointedly, and receives a solemn blink in return.

Kids.

Kyouhei doesn’t remember it quite this way. Some more posturing maybe, whether it took the form of looking assured or aloof. Kida is neither. He’s just… vacuous. In a way. A blackhole swallowing up Kyouhei’s presence and words without absorbing the content.

“It doesn’t really matter if I go to school or not,” Kida answers, perhaps sensing the line of Kyouhei’s patience.

“Oh yeah? Gonna go right into the workforce instead?”

“I don’t know.”

And there he goes trampling Kyouhei’s patience in a completely different way. This fucking kid.

Kyouhei exchanges a look with Togusa, who’s also displeased with the turns this conversation has taken.

Yeah. Kyouhei’s not sure where to go with this either.

Karisawa and Yumasaki remain blissfully in their own world. Their conversation has turned from light novel releases to upcoming adaptations, both anime and live action, and is farther from coming to a close than it was before. The amount of things they manage to drag him into without trying or intending is truly impressive.

“It’s not like I’m dropping out,” Kida explains when he doesn’t have to, and the tone doesn’t quite manage to sound defensive. Then, his face scrunches up in vague discomfort. “School is just… not where I want to be. Right now. I go sometimes. I went? Monday. Yeah, Monday.” He flickers between Kyouhei and Togusa and then to the table with a wince.

Kyouhei chuckles like _any_ of what Kida’s just said is a totally normal, typical teenage complaint instead of some dispirited confession. “Is that why you’re letting Karisawa and Yumasaki drag you around?”

“I’m not. I mean, they aren’t. I—” He cuts himself off to collect himself. His fingers try their hardest to dig into the table, white tension in his knuckles, nails making a click against the edge as they slide off. He takes a breath. Waits. For… something.

Before any of them can know if whatever he’s waiting for will arrive, the neutral tone of a phone goes off. It gets everyone’s attention, but Kida is the only one to jump like it’s much shriller than it is. His hand flies to his hoodie pouch and the noise is cut off. There’s strain in Kida’s shoulders as he mechanically pulls the phone out just enough to expose the bright sliver of a screen. After a twitch of indecision he brings it in front of him and squints at the screen.

Karisawa looks at the phone. She gives Kida a glance before giving up on allowing the kid any privacy. As she leans in her eyes widen slightly. “Huh? You know Izayan, Kida-kun?”

Ah.

As far as Kyouhei knows there’s only one Izaya in Tokyo.

Somehow it makes perfect sense that he’s involved here, too. All these years later and Izaya is still pulling theatrical stunts like it’s high school. Only now it’s not restricted to the general vicinity of their school, and the actors are even more clueless than they were back then. And apparently still teenagers.

Kida flinches at Karisawa’s words, hiding his phone in his hoodie. In the process he presses against Kyouhei’s side, elbow jutting into him. There’s a denial on his tongue that dies before he can commit to it. He settles for a listless shrug. Clearly the thought that “Izayan” could be referring to anyone other than Orihara Izaya hasn’t occurred to him, either.

Then, there’s an actual hesitation from Kida and he says, “Wait a minute, how do you know him?” and he can’t decide which of them he wants to make that accusation to.

“We go way back,” Karisawa assures him with a glance toward Kyouhei, which Kida skitters after.

“High school. Me, not them.”

“Oh,” Masaomi says, distinctly awkward, as though it’s something he should have known, or been able to guess before now.

“You gonna answer that?” Karisawa asks, without any sense of boundaries, knowing damn well no one would have a conversation with that guy where others can overhear.

“It’s not a phone call. He… It’s not important.” Kida sighs, and only now that it can be used as a distraction does he take a piece of meat off his plate and stuff it in his mouth. He makes a face before chewing.

So, Izaya was selling information to the Yellow Scarves, then.

He was in contact with Izumii, too.

With that in mind, the carefully maintained tug of war between their two color gangs makes more sense. For the longest time it was as back and forth as you would expect from two disorganized, juvenile collections of misfit teens and misguided young adults. With Izaya’s influence, though, that changed. The precarious balance became sustained, tension finding the perfect spot to never lean too far in one direction. At first. Then, it started slipping, slowly. First in their favor, and no one thought anything of it. Then, just as fast, just as smooth, it backslid to favoring the Yellow Scarves instead, and in a way it never had when the conflict as a whole was on the verge of total collapse.

Simply put, Izumii failed to cope with the concept of losing.

And Izaya wasn’t interested in offering any of his services for any price.

When Izumii believed they were on the verge of total defeat—which who knows if they even were with Izaya setting props and pulling strings behind the scenes—he thought abducting a teenager’s uninvolved girlfriend was the best way to regain the upper hand.

It was and it wasn’t.

So, now, here they are, and arguably Kyouhei and his friends are the only ones better off for it.

Still, he can’t help but wonder if there was any point to it. Izaya’s months long machinations. Not that there really needs to be when it comes to that guy. Just, from the distance Kyouhei has, the situation feels particularly callous in its destructive meandering. A girl is in the hospital. A man is awaiting trial. A boy is heartbroken in more ways than one. Dozens of others carry on as if their leaders were unnecessary figureheads, conflicts resuming after a brief intermission. Everything and nothing has changed.

Maybe that is the point, but it’s not much better or different from high school.

Not that any of it is really Kyouhei’s business.

How Izaya makes his money or entertains himself is not Kyouhei’s business or interest.

Kida Masaomi is not his business, either, even if Karisawa and Yumasaki do keep dropping him in his lap.

“How do you know Izayan, Kida-kun?” Karisawa asks with so little gravity it’s a wonder how her words find form.

In response Kida chokes on the bite he’s been taking his sweet time chewing. Kyouhei has a pang of sympathy for him. More of an echo, maybe. Kida has been hanging around them long enough that he should anticipate insensitive questions. These two are nosey by default, and don’t make it a habit to employ tact.

Karisawa brings her fist down on her palm lightly as a thought occurs to her. “Is he the guy you were talking about before?”

Now, Kida whips around to face her, pushing himself against Kyouhei as if to get away from her, although she isn’t trying to push her advantage. Not yet. “Um.” He wants to lie. The air is thick with the temptation, with the knowledge that it’d be easy. Instead, Kida slumps like he’s already been caught and admits, “Yeah. He’s the person I mentioned before.”

Karisawa falls silent as her eyes gleam with the intensity of her calculation, finding all the cracks where this new information fits. At first Kyouhei thinks she’s going to launch into some inappropriate conspiracy theory, but she just leans her face into her laced fingers and continues thinking.

Then, she takes her conspiracy theory to Yumasaki, speaking fast and coding it in otaku terms that Kyouhei is going to need repeated another two or three times to decipher fully. He’s sure they’ll go over it in great detail for him on the ride home. With any luck it will at least resemble reality a little, and not be overly discourteous to Kida.

Kida watches them for a moment. It’s not clear if he’s catching on to whatever it is they’re on about, but he doesn’t seem offended. Then, he takes a breath to relax and turns back to Kyouhei. He looks him up and down like he needs to reassess what he knows of his character. “You’re friends with that guy?” He asks as light as he can, but it only makes his tone waver so much it almost breaks.

“That’s a generous way of putting it.” 

They don’t exactly make a point to call or message each other. When they do see each other they don’t catch up on what the other’s been up to or their interests. Do they have shared interests? Kyouhei doesn’t even know anymore. He has no idea when he last exchanged more than a few sentences with Izaya at one time. Yet, they aren’t strangers. Kyouhei wouldn’t think to claim that.

They’re amicable. Izaya seems to like him, in whatever measure Izaya quantifies “like” anyway. He doesn’t deem Kyouhei’s existence as something beneath notice and he’s never gone out of his way to harass him to the level he does with some people.

Kyouhei wouldn’t say he’s someone he looks forward to seeing. His presence is never a pleasant surprise, neither is it something he dreads.

In a way, Izaya is just… one of those offbeat guys from high school who’s continued to be offbeat into his adult years. Their high school was full of weirdos and Izaya isn’t really that remarkable compared to any of them.

“Izaya is an asshole,” Kida says, and Kyouhei isn’t sure if it’s the way he addresses Izaya, the statement as a whole, or the unadulterated _feeling_ in his voice that catches him so off-guard.

He looks at Kida, at the earnest appeal sparkling through in his weary eyes, and can’t help the laugh that slips out. “Yeah, he is.”

Seemingly satisfied, Kida relents from Kyouhei. He stares at his mostly full plate. His arm tenses as he tightens his grip on his phone. They fall back to their status quo as Karisawa and Yumasaki’s conversation finds a steady, uninterruptible rhythm, but it’s far from the worst place to be.


End file.
